Someone Mourns the Wicked
by sparkycircuit
Summary: A collection of Wicked one shots.
1. Someone Mourns the Wicked

** Someone Mourns the Wicked**

Glinda stared at the hat in hands. The black hat that was an earmark of Elphaba. The hat that she would never willingly take off. The hat that signified the undeniable truth that was making itself more and more obvious in her head. Elphaba was dead. Fiyero was dead, Nessa was dead. This whole disaster had killed most of the people she cared about.

Glinda clutched the hat to her chest, sobs racking her shoulders with grief. Her wand slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. As the tears poured down her cheeks, her memories of the times she had spent with Elphie flitting through her head. How could it all be over? It seemed like it had been such a short time since she had blindly raised her hand and volunteered to be Elphaba's roommate.

Five years. And four of them hardly counted, having been spent as the Wizard's lackey, hating what she was doing, and not believing any of it. But what had been the worst had been being separated from Elphie. She had missed her friend, and she had to hide the pain of separation from all of Oz.

Then there was the cornfield. They had slapped each other, fought, for what felt like foolish reasons. Elphaba had stolen Fiyero, when realistically, Glinda had always known that deep down, and she had never truly had him. But now none of it mattered, because they where both dead. None of it seemed to matter.

All she could think of was the final moments they had spent together before the witch hunters had arrived in the castle. The witch hunters she had given directions to. The witch hunters she had made no effort to stop. She knew what Elphaba would have said. That it wasn't her fault, that if she had tried to stop them, it would have just ended horribly for Glinda, and that she wasn't worth the trouble.

That had been Elphaba. Headstrong, undeniable, and though she always put up a strong front, life had always seemed to knock her down. Her father, as she had shared the night they had first become friends, had hated her. Most other people didn't accept her, didn't even try to. She had shared with Glinda many times that she was the only friend she had ever had. As for Glinda, Elphie had been the only friend that had ever mattered. She had truly left a handprint on her heart.

But now Elphaba was a puddle on the floor.

Now the only true friend she had felt as though she had ever had was in a puddle on the floor, the blonde witch's tears mixing with the remnants of her friend. The pain she felt in her heart, the undeniable sorrow was like a knife. One thrust in, another out, before it pierced her heart again.

She would have never guessed that it would have come to this when they met, when she still hated her for taking her place in the sorcery seminar. When she still was annoyed with herself for unwillingly thrusting herself into the position of her roommate. When she had willingly tried to humiliate Elphaba by giving her that horrible hat. The hat that Elphaba had always worn as a tribute to Glinda, no matter how horrible it looked, much how she still wore the cloak that Glinda had placed around her shoulders in the attic of the Wizard's castle the night that everything had begun to fall apart.

On that night Elphie had seemed so brave, so strong… And yet, Glinda could see the signs. The signs of doubt, the signs of vulnerability, the signs of fear. Fear of what would happen if she was captured. The fear of what her fate could have been had the Wizard's guards caught up with her.

But now… Now… None of it mattered. Because Glinda was kneeling on the floor, tears still trickling down her face intermittently, Elphaba's hat still clutched to her chest. The thought of never seeing Elphaba again a knife still in her heart. She slowly stood, nausea rising in her throat along with a fresh wave of tears. Elphaba, her Elphie, her best friend in the world, the only sincere friend she had had was dead. But she had to stand strong.

For her.

For Good.


	2. All My Fault

**All My Fault**

Elphaba sighed, dusting off her black frock as she listened for the sounds that would signal that the witch hunters who had just 'killed' her where gone, and that she could go find Fiyero. Just as she was sure they where gone, she heard it. The door coming unlocked with a click. The door that she had locked Glinda behind so that she couldn't interfere.

She heard the sound of her footsteps. Then, they stopped, and she heard a gasp, one of terror, of grief, each sound magnified by the stone floor. The rush of footsteps as Glinda finally settled above the trapdoor.

"Oh, Elphie, what have they done to you?" she heard, her sole friends voice racked with sorrow and pain. She imagined what she knew Glinda would do. She was probably kneeling on the floor, clutching that hat to her, carefully keeping it close. She heard the horrible sobs she knew where shaking Glinda's shoulders. How she wished she could rise from the trapdoor, assure Glinda that she was still alive. But she couldn't.

She slowly lifted a hand, and gently touched it to the trapdoor above her head. This was the closest she could get to comforting or being with Glinda ever again. This was one of those times, one of those horrible times that she truly wished that no one loved her, cared about her. Because if no one cared, if no one loved her, then Glinda wouldn't be kneeling atop the trap door, tears sliding down her face, Fiyero wouldn't be sentenced to living life as a scarecrow.

She hated that she was doing this to Glinda. This was her, being selfish again. She wanted to be with Fiyero and escape a life of constant fear and fleeing for her life, and as a result, Glinda was suffering.

Elphaba leaned against the stone wall, closing her eyes as she wished she could block out the horrible cries of sorrow coming from above. But she couldn't, because she knew she deserved to hear them. She also knew that because of who Glinda was, she probably felt partly responsible for this. But she couldn't blame herself, it wasn't her fault, and had Glinda tried to help, it would have just ended badly. No, it was all Elphaba's fault. Yet another thing in her life she had done wrong.

That was the other thing that Elphaba couldn't stand about herself. That when other people got close to her, things ended badly for them. Fiyero. Nessa. Dr. Dillamond. Even Glinda. Especially Glinda.

Fiyero had been forced into his fate. If he hadn't had to jump out of the cornfield to save her, he wouldn't have nearly died, and be stuck living as a scarecrow. Nessa had suffered her whole life, and Elphaba had never been able to save her from that. Dr. Dillamond's life and career had been ruined, and again, she had been unable to stop it, to help. Glinda. Glinda by no means deserved what she had ended up feeling with Elphaba. Things had never been fair for either of them, in a way. But none of this was fair to Glinda.

Glinda would be the one who would have to deal with the after effects for years to come, while Elphaba lived out a happy life with Fiyero. Oh, how the roles had been switched. Elphaba's future, which had until recently been limited to what she could do under the pall of a wicked reputation was now wide open, her death liberating her. Glinda was now going to be tied down, her movement limited. Her future limited, because she would have to deal with the after effects, the after shocks. _No good deed goes unpunished_, Elphaba mused to herself ruefully. Glinda had been her friend, and was now paying dearly for it.

Tentatively, Elphaba lifted her hand again. She touched the trap door, a single tear running down her emerald cheek. It felt as though Glinda was the one who had died. "I've been changed, for good. And I hope you can forgive me for the things I know you blame me for, the things I should be blamed for." She said softly, before lowering her hand, the black cloak that Glinda had given her swishing as she disappeared into the darkness.

She would be strong. For Glinda.

For Good.


	3. The Gates of Kiamo Ko

**The Gates of Kiamo Ko**

Fiyero sighed as he watched the Ozians wield a large tree trunk like a battering ram so that they could break through the gates. His brainless head momentarily wandered from the task at hand. Was it right that his straw body was making him itchy? Should your own body make you itch? A few seconds later, he realized what a foolish thought this was, and attributed it to the whole no brain thing. He drug himself back to the task at hand, which just happened to be the murder of the woman he loved.

With a loud crack, the doors swung open. He walked forward into the courtyard, Boq and the Lion alongside. The crowd stopped abruptly at the site of Elphaba. Before, Fiyero's hands had hung loosely at his sides, but now they where curling into slight fists at what he knew was about to happen. He saw the perfectly placed bucket of water, and watched as Elphaba's eyes calmly roamed the crowd. She looked calm, strong, as though she was harboring no fear of what was about to happen. And yet, he could see it, the slight strains of fear and nerves slipping through, cracking the façade.

The plan was perfect. The plan was perfect in its simplicity. Yet he feared. It was irrational, yes. If there was anyone who could pull this plan off, it would be Elphaba. Yet Fireyo's head was filled with all sorts of horrible possibilities. All sorts of horrible things that could go wrong, and lead to Elphaba's death. Her real death, not the fake one that had been planned carefully.

Again, he was snapped back to reality, as Elphaba's eyes settled on him. Unlike most of the crowd, who had shifted uncomfortably or averted their eyes when she had looked at them, Fiyero locked eyes with her. Her eyes flashed in determined recognition. He gave a nod so small that it seemed only to be a stray piece of straw slipping out of alignment. But it was indeed a nod of recognition. After a second, which felt like an eternity, her eyes continued there roaming of the crowd. At the sight of Boq, her jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed in recognition, but her eyes continued their evaluation of the mob here for the sole purpose of causing her demise.

Fiyero watched all this with a look of slight detachment. His nerves where frayed like his tattered clothes, but he was doing his best to keep it to himself. Suddenly, shattering the perfect silence of the armistice was Dorothy, out of breath and befuddled. Fiyero watched, his eyes tightening in interest at what was going to transpire. Elphaba took a half step towards Dorothy. The young farm girl picked up the bucket, and heaved water at Elphaba, who led out an inhuman scream.

Fiyero felt the scream pierce his eardrums as though it where an arrow slicing into him. He wanted so badly to run up and do his best to dry Elphaba, but he knew he couldn't. Boq was already suspiscious, and he was sure that if he made any moves he would be given away. So the scarecrow clenched his fists as he watched Elphaba sink into the trapdoor. At least he knew she was alive. Not safe. He wouldn't be sure that she was safe until they met later.

As the air around him was filled with calls of happiness, elation, Fiyero was met with an inexplicable rage. What right did these people have him to decide that Elphaba was wicked? What right did they have to cheer at her 'death'? What right did any of them have? None of them had known her, truly known her. He saw Dorthy request the broom, and as it was handed to her, she began to lead the proccestion back to the city. He hung back, explaining it to those who asked that he had 'lost' some of himself, indicating the straw. They seemed to take this as an answer.

Fiyero stood in the doorway for a few seconds, looking at the hat left sitting there. He turned to leave, but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of Glinda's voice. He looked over, and Glinda was cradling Elphaba's hat, and tears where pouring from her eyes, her blonde curls out of place, her tiara eschew. Fiyero wanted to tell her that her best friend, her Elphie was alive, and hopefully well.

But he couldn't. Because he was made of straw, and he was weak as a result. The only thing keeping him strong was knowing that he and Elphaba would be safe if all of Oz thought they were dead. That included Glinda. It pained him, as he still cared about the woman who had been, for however short a time, his fiancée. He slowly turned, following the rejoicing crowd out of the gates of Kiamo Ko and towards the Emerald City.

But she would be strong. He would be strong. Elphaba would be strong. They had to be.

For Good.


	4. Things Not Seen

**Things Not Seen**

She never saw me. She never truly saw me. I was always told that munchkins that were important married into height somewhere. I was always tall among my people. I always stood out among them. Yet, none of this seemed to make a difference to her. Apparently, I was never tall enough to catch her eye.

My name is one syllable. Simple enough, right? Three little letters. Yet, she couldn't remember it. Biq. Biq she always called me. No matter how many times I corrected that middle letter, an I it always was. Biq, never Boq. One syllable she always missed, as opposed to three she could never forget.

Fiyero.

I would never admit how jealous I was. He had every girl at Shiz after him. Always. The worst of it was, he had the only girl I wanted after him as well.

Galinda Upland.

When I first saw her, I knew. I knew that I was madly in love, that no one could ever replace what I felt for her. Yet, part of me knew that deep down, I wasn't the kind of guy she could love, she would love. But I hoped. Against all logic, knowledge, common sense, I hoped. In my mind, I begged her to see me, to look at me.

But she sold me down the river. She sold me to Nessarose.

Nessarose. At first, I thought that she was someone I could come to care for. To maybe someday love. But she changed. Slowly, gradually, she became someone I didn't recognize. She became Nessarose Thropp, governess of Munchkinland, also called the Wicked Witch of the East. She was no longer the Nessa I knew. As I began remembering what had made me so infatuated with Glinda at school, Nessa became more and more obsessive, and as such, oppressive, until finally, it happened.

She stole my heart. She ripped from my chest. All because I couldn't indulge her fantasy any longer. She could walk, she didn't need me, I was sick of being oppressed by the women in my life. I had to go try to free myself from the oppression that I still felt from Miss Glinda.

But now I am imprisoned once again. I am the tin man. And I have given up on freedom. I am not made of tin. I'm still Boq. And I'm still unseen.


End file.
